It's in the back y'all
 It's on the wall y'all
 It's in your head  but it's not the fever
 Now with the B I double L bill
 We bill the par territories placing flags on terrains
 Now I said it was yours so snatch the world back from Wayne
 We did  universally sparked the lid
 Now these ladies love how we live
 Got'em caught  shit you already know looking so fly
 That the dog that played spiderweb your up aliasing here
 Sucker cats don't try to steer
 Near this, wish you could bring it this way
 Compliments of Wonder Y and my nigga David J
 So the do, re, mi, fa, sol, la
 Many reach to devour the stage, put the guts out the venue
 Ah, shut up in your face no need to continue
 I've been there, done that
 Received it, won that
 Yo stunned that, that's how you like To Sun frozed
 Keep my shit in harvest like Farmer John grows crops
 Hops, you'll need the whole ceiling to tops
 I saw the empire, set your liquid to fire
 Bim Blam set a flame to your fanny
 Davis the surname like Davis the Sammy
 A grammy, my concern is to earn for a little age
 Next time, next rhyme, next phase
 Chorus 2x
 Now put your hand on your hip
 Now put your hand on your hip
 And let your backbone slip
 And let your backbone slide
 Now put your hand up on your hip
 Now put your hand up on your hip
 And let your backbone slip for the fever
 Hey, ladies and gents reintroducing to you
 Shootin' shit like hot asses at the sip of bean stew
 Super fat come the visitor zoo
 Peace to my homewood niggas and my man Tofu
 I'm through evil that man do
 Get some ass on the side so my love can shine through
 Pull a cigar with crew, lean back and let it soak
 Your holdin' on to my twelve dollar smoke
 Man, it was Mase who laced the beat from up out the Earth
 Leaving brothers hipnotized like Ootney Fonsworth
 But I'm hip but no tized than that, clap to the break of dawn
 Dada, wonder why it's hotter than hot
 Why not knee, my Steve got niggas on the dick
 They want to join the click
 I hope that ass get a record deal
 So they can feel what I feel
 To overstand that ring ring, how you do is real
 You must be from Italy 'cause all you do is roam
 Microphone to microphone, lookin' for home
 I write a poem to make the publicists flock the prone cop
 China on stage so I don't need a spotlight
 Should be tight like tupperwear supperwear, drawers of socks
 Sippin' on gray pot yo scratch the pork chops
 Cause nothin' here drops
 We're goin' up, up, up, up, up, up, up
 Chorus 3x
 Huh (11x)
 It's the fever